


To: Connor Murphy, Subject: Heather McNamara

by Red_Dead_Redeemer



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson, Heathers (1988), Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: Crossover, Crossover Pairings, F/M, High School, My First Fanfic, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-03-24
Packaged: 2019-04-03 23:03:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14006781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Red_Dead_Redeemer/pseuds/Red_Dead_Redeemer
Summary: Freshman year: Heather McNamara and Evan Hansen first meet on the school roof and talk a bit. She feels lonely that she hasn’t found a clique to belong to yet. He convinces her to find the other two girls named Heather to hang out with.





	1. Prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rooftop Garden, After school.

Evan Hansen slowly but quietly trudged up the staircase toward the school roof. He sighed, running his hand through his hair and across his face. _Is there some kind of deadline for finding friends that I don’t know about? Like, you have only so much time to find a friend and you’re alone for the rest of your li- er school year._ He hoped not. September was almost over and aside from Jared “contractually-obligated to talk with you” Kleinman, there was nobody. Three quarters the way up he stopped to stare out the window on one of the landings. Students swarmed across the parking lot toward cars and buses, the school building cast a vast shadow over all of them. In groups and couples, the great morass of teen angst moved on with their lives. Evan pressed a hand on the glass, separating him from the deep rich blue sky, then down onto the latch holding it shut.

Shoulder-wide, no bug screen, straight shot down to black tarmac.

He pulled away and continued onwards, onwards and upwards. One of the unique features of Westerburg High was the garden on the roof, a picturesque place with trees, flowers, grass, even fruit, and vegetables. A great big chain-link fence as well, that was self-explanatory.

Again, he stopped at the top of the stairs, staring at the metal door between himself and fresh air. Above the door was a sign in red and white saying that “THIS IS NOT AN EXIT”. The edges around the door shone with warm and natural light. Evan blinked; he thought he saw a shadow flitter past. He leaned down to try to peer through the crack at the bottom, and then he pressed an ear to the door to try to hear something. Then finally, he realized how creepy in public he was acting, he glanced up at the ceiling for security cameras as if the SWAT team would burst in to arrest him on grounds of suspicious activity. Down the stairwell like the football team in cleats, jerseys, and helmets would rush up the stairs to haul him into the nearest locker. Except for possible mold stains, the ceiling was blank, the stairwell empty and echoing. He was alone.

Evan pushed open the utility door and a bright beam of sunlight immediately hit him right in his face. He held a hand in front of his face, blocking it from the westering sun, as his eyes adjusted from the relative gloom of the stairwell.

He glimpsed it through his fingers. There, some distance away. There, sitting on a bench, blending in with and framed by a patch of sunflowers. There was a girl. Her blonde hair glittered like burnished gold and fell around her face hiding it from view. She had her –long– legs curled into her chest, was resting her head on her knees.

Evan froze up at the sight of her, his breath left his lungs, the door slammed shut behind him. She heard and turned to him.


	2. Head Shrink

The head shrink tapped his fountain pen against the clipboard upon which he was taking notes. Evan tried not to squirm under the scrutiny of the man. “Hmm,” the man muttered underlining something. He chuckled; the sound was thin and reedy like the man himself. “Long legs, huh?” he said knowingly.

Evan’s face flushed heavily. “Should I have said that? I probably shouldn’t have said that. You’re right, it does make me sound like a pervert, I swear I’m not a pervert. Is it weird though that I noticed her legs and not her, uh.” He made a chest-high cupping motion with his hands then immediately put them down.

The therapist flapped his hands at Evan in an attempt to reassure, “calm down, please, please. Breathe. Count to five, inhale, count to five, exhale.” Evan followed his instructions. It helped. Somewhat.

“I’m only trying to clarify something,” he jotted down a few more notes, “and worked in some teasing.”

Evan deflated. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“Don’t be. This is a safe space and you shouldn’t ever feel unwelcome here.”

Evan glanced at the office doorway perched above which was not a clock but a bust. It was a gray marble bust of a stately, dignified, looking woman with severe features, perched on her head was a helmet of an ancient design with only slits for the eyes and mouth. Perched atop _that_ was a bird unmoving; a taxidermied raven. Mouth open mid-croak, wings spread wide perpetually ready to take flight. Black eyes. Always staring.

Evan wrenched his eyes back towards the doctor, took a lungful, and breathed, “Okay.”

**Author's Note:**

> Testing the waters, as it were. Interest level. First Fic.


End file.
